The Wings of a Storm
by HeavenlyBodies
Summary: A quiet moment between Dean and Castiel… schmoopy, non-porny wing!fic.


Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been, never will be.

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Dean lay in bed, tracing patterns along Castiel's back. Nonsensical curves and curls, strokes and lines. His lover sleeping peacefully beside him. He still couldn't believe Cas came back, that he was alive, even if he was, at least for the moment; a bit more human than either of them would like- Cas was here in his bed and that was all that mattered. His right hand slid down the angel's back just to the right of Castiel's spine.

A soft strained mewl emerged from barely parted lips.

Dean stopped his idle movements, placing his hand firmly in the center of Cas' back. "Cas, baby, what's wrong?"

Cas shook slightly as if his entire body was saying 'no', "It's nothing to concern yourself with," he muttered sleepily.

"Cas," Dean's voice held a stubborn tone and even Castiel's groggy brain knew he'd have to answer Dean.

"My wings," he whispered, warily; unsure how Dean would react.

Dean was floored. In all the time they'd been lovers, he'd never touched, seen, or felt Cas' wings, so the idea that somehow he had both terrified and excited him. "How?"

Castiel sighed, face still buried in his pillow, "As you say, I'm drained. It requires much to keep them hidden."

"So what, they're leaking through?" he asked, hesitantly.

"You could say that," the angel replied, finally rolling to face Dean.

"And when I…"

"Yes."

"But I didn't feel anything," Dean said in awe.

"They are not so exposed that you can see or feel them, but they are close enough that I could feel your touch. It… surprised me."

Dean smirked, "They're that sensitive." He had to stop himself from simply reaching out and stroking the skin again.

Castiel's face scrunched up as he considered his answer.

A mischievous, knowing smile danced over Dean's lips, "Hasn't anyone touched them before?"

His question was met with a bashful silence.

Dean stroked his knuckles softly over Cas' concerned face. "Can I see them?"

"Dean…" Cas murmured. "If I brought them out, I don't believe I could hide them again."

"You said it takes a lot of your power to keep them hidden?"

Castiel nodded.

"Leave them out."

Cas stared at the hunter as if he'd just suggested a threesome with Lucifer.

Dean chuckled at his angel's incredulous look, "It's the end of the world, if it makes it that much easier for you, then I say go for it."

"But Dean, they are not precisely… small."

"You can still fold them or whatever you do when they aren't open, right?"

Again, Castiel merely nodded.

"Then show them to me," he whispered, sliding his hand along the line of Castiel's back that had caused that first murmured reaction.

With a sigh the air fluxed around them as Castiel let go of his hold over his wings.

They were amazing, nothing like Dean had ever imagined. He had always assumed they would be magnificent and imposing, but they were so much more. They stretched across the room, folded just enough to allow them to fit in the confined space. Strands of iridescent light and nebulous filaments weaved together in a fine fabric forming each individual feather.  
Dean reached out, stroking the feathers gently causing Castiel's entire body to shake. "That okay, baby?"

Cas hummed, his eyes closed, face nuzzling back into the pillow.

Dean smiled and continued petting his angel's wing; his hand gliding over the softly textured surface, their warmth surprising him. He remember the shadowy images from the barn, the fear they instilled, the power the represented, and, now, here he was _touching_ them. "They're beautiful, Cas."

The angel didn't reply, simply pressing his wing into Dean's touch; the light purrs and whimpers dropping from his lips his only sound.

Fingers combed through the fine fabric of Castiel's wings, gently teasing and coaxing, learning every surface and curve of them.

Hazily the angel whispered, "Come here," a rare relaxation in his soft words. He raised his arm, inviting the hunter to him.

With barely a thought Dean moved into his angel's arms- life was too short to be bothered with pretenses, every moment they had left was precious and he wanted to share as much as he could with his angel. Dean's cheek rubbed over Cas' chronically stubbled one, the gentle pull against his skin soothing in ways he could never hope to explain.

Castiel wrapped his arms around his hunter, a soft "Thank you," breathed against his ear as silken tresses brushed against Dean's skin and otherworldly plumes embraced him.


End file.
